MEMORIAL    ADDRESS. 


PROF.  DAVID  S.  CONANT,  M.  D. 


DELIVERED  TO  THE 


GRADUATING-     CLASS 


IN  THE  MEDICAL  DEPARTMENT  OF  THE 


UNIVERSITY  OF  VERMONT, 


BY 


A.  B.  CROSBY,  A.  M.,  M.  D. 


PROFESSOR  OF  SURGERY, 


WITH  REMARKS  AND  RESOLUTIONS  FROM  OTHER  SOURCES. 


BURL  I  X  GTON  : 

HOOK      AND      JOB      OFFICE 

6  6 . 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign 


http://archive.org/details/memorialaddresspOOcros 


■  iK 


TO  THE  MEMORY  OF 

PROF.  DAVID  S.  CONANT,  M.  D., 

LATE  PBOPESSOE  OF  BURGERY  IX  THE  MEDICAL  DEPARTMENT  OP  THE 
UNIVERSITY   OF    VERMONT,    AM)    IX   THE   MEDICAL   SCHOOL    OF 
MAINE,  SURGEON  OF  THE  DEMILT  DISPENSARY,  N.  Y.,  MEM- 
BER OPTHE  NEW  YORK  ACADEMY  OF  MEDICINE, UNITED 
STATES  MEDICAL  ASSOCIATION, N.  V..  STATE  MEDI- 
CAL SOCIETY.  X.  V..  PATHOLOGICAL  SOCIETY. 
X.  Y.,  CHIRURGICAL  SOCIETY,  N.  Y.,  OB- 
STETRICAL   SOCIETY,    NEW    YORK. 
&C,  &C,  &C.,&C.,&C.,&C. 


BY      THE 
M  E  Die  A  L     DEPARTM  I   N  T 

OF    THE 

U  XIVE  RSITY    OF    V  E  RM  0  N  T 

BURLINGTON.  Vr  .  JUNE,   1806. 


682987 


PROF.  DAVID  S.  CONANT,  M.  D, 

DIED 

IX    NEW    YORK    CITY, 


October  8th,  1865. 


AGED  FORTY  YEARS. 


He  who  has  fearlessly  and  successfully  crossed  swords  with 
Death  in  many  a  closely  contested  struggle,  has  fallen.  The 
arrow  tipped  with  an  unknown  and  mysterious  poison  has 
pierced  a  noble  victim,  and  laid  the  useful  man  low  ere  half  his 
life  of  labor  was  done.  , 

While  we  rejoice  in  the  life  of  him  who  lias  been  with  and  one 
of  us,  we  acknowledge  the  justice  of  that  Providence  which  in- 
terrupts his  labors  and  deprives  us  of  his  services;  and  in  the 
indulgence  of  our  grief  we  accept  the  instruction  offered  us  by 
Him,  who  has  removed  the  good  man  at  the  very  time  when  he 
i  the  full  exercise  of  his  most  beneficial  influence. 

*     *     T. 


ADDKKSS. 
BY  PROF.  A.  B.  CROSBY,  M.  1). 


Gentlemen  : 

As  we  journey  along  the  great  highway  of  life,  en- 
grossed  in  its  cares,  and  surrounded  by  its  noise  and  dust,  we 
are  in  danger  of  forgetting  our  mortality.  Repeated  escapes 
from  danger,  though  exposed  to  war,  pestilence  and  famine, 
render  us  self-confident  and  indifferent.  Though  daily  witness- 
disease  and  death,  we  almost  come  to  believe  that  we  "bear 
a  charmed  life."  Ever  at  the  study,  as  we  are,  this  great  les- 
son is  never  learned  : 

S-We  are  such  stuff  as  dreams  are  mad 
And  our  little  life  is  rounded  by  a  sleep.'' 

The  infant  in  its  cradle  may  sleep  the  sleep  that  knows  no 
waking,  but  we  heed  it  little.  It  was  pure  and  innocent.  It 
was  a  frail  thing  at  best.  It  was  a  tender  bud,  and  the  frost 
that  nipped  it  was  untimely.  But  it  is  well  with  the  child,  and 
we  go  our  way. 

The  old  man  of  four  score  sleeps  well:  why  not?  We  know 
that  we  cannot  so  strengthen  the  spring,  nor  lengthen  the  chain 
but  that  the  machinery  of  life  will  run  down  at  its  appointed 
time.  The  shock  ol  corn  just  ripened  for  the  harvest  is  gar- 
nered in.  The  full  ripe  fruit  has  fallen  into  the  lap  of  earth. 
The  brave  old  ship,  baptized  in  many  a  storm  has  made  its  port 
at  last.     "Peace  to  his  ashes,"  and  so  we  rest  content. 

But  when  a  man  in  the  full  flush  of  health — in  the  successful 
exercise  of  his  powers,  whose  fame  has  not  reached  its  zenith — 
yet  whose  life  has  been  vindicated  as  a  success,  and  whose  re- 
moval is  a  public  loss,  not  only  to  a  community  but  to  institu- 
tions of  learning:  when  such  an  one  crosses  the  narrow  stream, 


8 

we  instinctively  turn  aside  from  the  great  thoroughfare,  and  re- 
flect that  our  lives  hang  by  a  thread,  and  that  the  fell  archer  is 
insatiate.  Still  more  are  we  impressed  if  we  have  known  the 
departed ;  if  we  have  listened  to  his  instruction ;  if  we  have 
shared  his  friendship.  In  the  untimely  death  of  Professor 
Conant,  such  an  event  as  I  have  feebly  portrayed  has  trans- 
pired. 

It  seems  peculiarly  appropriate  that  here,  where  some  of  his 
most  successful  labors  were  achieved,  where  many,  even  of  those 
now  present,  enjoyed  his  accumulated  stores  of  learning  and 
experience,  we  should  turn  aside  from  our  usual  avocations,  to 
pay  a  fitting  tribute  to  his  memory,  his  labors  and  his  virtues. 
I  am  well  assured,  that  in  thus  dwelling  on  his  brief,  but  suc- 
cessful career,  we  shall  all  derive  those  profitable  lessons  which 
the  life  of  an  eminent  and  good  physician  must  always  incul- 
cate. More  selfishly  still  I  esteem  myself  fortunate,  that  as  his 
successor  in  this  College,  I  am  enabled,  by  a  consideration  of 
his  life,  to  learn  something  of  the  secret  of  his  success,  and  to 
profit  so  far  as  I  may  by  his  brilliant  example. 

David  Sloan  Conant  was  born  at  Lyme,  N.  IL,  January  21, 
1825.  His  father  was  a  carpenter,  and  entertained  the  opin- 
ion that  every  boy,  whatever  his  inclinations  might  be,  should 
learn  a  good  trade,  so,  as  he  was  wont  to  say,  that  he  might 
have  something  "to  fall  back  upon/'  Thus  it  happened  that  the 
boy  in  common  with  his  other  brothers,  became  an  apprentice 
in  his  father's  shop.  He  remained  thus  employed  until  the  age 
of  twenty-one,  when  the  law  gave  him  liberty  to  follow  the  bent 
of  his  inclinations.  From  all  I  can  learn,  the  trade  of  a  carpen- 
ter was  always  distasteful  to  him,  but  knowing  his  father  to  be 
inflexible,  he  obediently  accepted  his  dictum,  and  brought  to 
this  humble  calling  the  same  industry  and  energy  which  subse- 
quently rendered   his  professional  career  so  successful.     Inci- 


dents  of  his  mechanical  skill  and  energy  are  still  recalled,  in 
which  he  excelled  the  most  ambitions  of  his  companions. 

During  this  period  of  his  apprenticeship,  young  Conant  had 
the  usual  advantages  of  the  district  school,  and  such  other  lim- 
ited opportunities  as  a  small  New  England  village  could  afford. 
It  was  observed  that  lie  had  a  craving  after  knowledge,  and 
eagerly  passed  his  leisure  hours  in  reading.  He  very  early  as- 
pired to  the  profession  of  medicine,  and  read  every  medical 
book  on  which  he  could  lay  his  hands.  At  the  age  of  sixteen 
lie  united  with  the  Congregational  Church,  and  honored  his  pro- 
fession of  faith  until  his  death.  During  his  boyhood,  he  was 
obedient  to  his  parents,  exemplary  in  his  conduct,  energetic  and 
industrious — yet  he  was  full  of  sport  and  greatly  enjoyed  boyish 
pleasures,  especially  those  of  an  athletic  character  in  which  he 
greatly  excelled. 

When  his  trade  was  well  learned,  he  still  felt  the  old  crav- 
ings for  knowledge.  He  accordingly  entered  an  academy  at 
Strafford,  Vt.,  determining,  if  possible  to  fit  for  college.  While 
thus  engaged,  he  supported  himself  by  working  at  his  trade 
during  the  hours  usually  given  up  to  recreation.  At  length  .he 
found  himself  well  fitted  to  enter  college  as  a  Sophomore,  but 
unfortunately  an  acquaintance,  himself  a  graduate,  advised  him 
not  to  attempt  a  collegiate  course.  It  was  a  never- failing  source 
of  regret  to  him  that  he  accepted  this  advice. 

He  at  once  commenced  the  study  of  medicine  under  the  in- 
struction of  Dr.  E.  C.  Worcester,  of  Thctford.  Xot  having  the 
means  with  which  to  pay  for  a  course  of  lectures,  he  went  to 
Boston  and  worked  at  his  trade  until  he  laid  aside  3200.00, 
with  which  he  attended  a  session  at  the  Dartmouth  Medical 
College.  Even  thus  early,  his  father's  words  were  proving  true  ! 
his  trade  was  "something  to  fall  back  upon.*'  He  here  became 
the  private  pupil  of  Prof.  E.  R.  Peaslee,  pursued  the  study  of 


10 

practical  anatomy  under  his  instruction,  and  remained  with  him 
during  the  larger  part  of  his  pupilage.  This  association  soon 
ripened  into  a  friendship,  mutually  beneficial,  and  which  con- 
tinued until  Dr.  Conant's  death.  As  a  student,  he  was  earnest, 
exact,  and  untiring.  He  was  still  obliged  to  depend  upon  his 
own  resources,  and  hence  we  find  him  now  in  a  drug  store,  then 
at  a  carpenter's  bench,  or  again  assisting  his  instructor  and  ben- 
efactor. But  wherever  we  sec  him,  we  note  the  same  change- 
less determination,  the  same  untiring  industry  that  dared  all 
things,  that  overcame  all  things. 

Dr.  Conant  was  graduated  as  Doctor  of  Medicine,  at  Bow- 
doin  College,  in  the  year  1848.  Both  at  Bowdoin  and  at 
Dartmouth,  he  filled  the  position  of  Demonstrator  of  Anatomy 
most  acceptably  to  those  institutions,  and  most  profitably  to 
their  students. 

In  1851  he  removed  from  his  native  State  to  New  York  City. 
In  the  succeeding  year,  through  the  influence  of  his  friend,  Prof. 
Peaslee,  he  was  appointed  Demonstrator  of  Anatomy  at  the 
New  York  Medical  College,  in  13th  Street,  and  retained  this 
position  until  I860.  At  this  time  and  subsequently,  he  drew 
around  him  a  large  class  of  private  students,  and  his  large  ex- 
perience in  teaching  them  admirably  fitted  him  for  the  positions 
he  was  destined  to  fill. 

During  1854,  cholera  prevailed  in  New  York,  and  Dr.  Cox- 
ant  was  placed  in  charge  of  a  hospital  in  Mott  Street.  Here, 
his  untiring  devotion  to  his  .duties,  his  zeal  in  making  autopsies 
for  the  study  of  the  disease,  and  the  well  digested  results  of 
these  investigations  which  he  presented  to  the  Pathological  So- 
ciety, served  to  draw  upon  him  the  attention  and  approval  of 
some  of  the  most  eminent  physicians  in  New  York.  The  good 
opinion  thus  early  formed  of  him,  his  subsequent  career  fully 
confirmed.     The  same  restless  cv.crgy  that  took  him  into  his  pro- 


11 

fession  would  not  allow  him  to  remain  satisfied  witb  a  position 
of  mediocrity,  and  we  are  not  surprised  to  know  that  he  Bteadi- 
lv  gained  in  professional  reputation.  In  1857,  on  the  resigna- 
tion of  his  friend,  Prof.  Peaslee,  he  was  appointed  to  the  chair 
of  Anatomy  in  Bowdoin  College,  which  position  he  held  until 
1862,  when  he  was  transferred  to  the  chair  of  Surgery,  and  oc- 
cupied this  latter  at  the  time  of  his  death.  Dr.  CoNAKT  was 
appointed  to  the  chair  of  Surgery  in  this  College  in  1855,  and 
continued  to  discharge  the  duties  of  the  position  until  his  death. 
Of  his  connection  with  this  institution,  you  can  tell  me  moic  than 
I  can  repeat  to  you.  But  1  find  it  to  be  the  universal  opinion, 
that  as  a  teacher,  he  was  exact,  comprehensive  and  forcible, — 
as  a  Surgeon,  bold,  courageous,  and  skillful :  while  as  a  man  he 
was  genial,  upright  and  honorable. 

During  his  residence  in  New  York,  Dr.  Conakt  filled  various 
professional  offices  with  entire  acceptance.  Among  these  were 
the  positions  of  Surgeon  to  the  Demiit  Dispensary,  and  also  to 
the  Colored  Home.  Ever  anxious  to  improve  himself,  he  early 
became  connected  with  various  medical  societies,  whore  he  not 
only  received  but  imparted  valuable  information.  He  occupied 
the  honorable  position  of  President  of  the  Pathological  Society; 
he  was  a  fellow  of  the  Academy  of  Medicine  ;  he  was  a  member  of 
the  Obstetrical  Society;  he  belonged  to  the  New  York  Medical 
Association;  he  was  a  member  of  the  New  York  County  Medi- 
cal Society,  and  during  his  last  fatal  illness  was  elected  its  Vice 
President.  Even  at  the  portals  of  the  grave,  professional  hon- 
ors were  heaped  upon  him,  aid  he  went  to  his  long  home  with 
the  laurel  fresh  twined  about  his  brow. 

During  these  successive  years  his  practice  in  New  York  had 
constantly  increased  until  it  had  become  both  large  and  lucra- 
tive. I  am  informed  that  shortly  before  his  death  he  had  de- 
cided to  resign  his  professorial  chairs,  and  devote  himself  to  the 


12 

more  remunerative  occupation  of  private  practice,  fie  had  de- 
voted himself  most  exclusively  to  his  profession,  never  leaving 
home  except  for  a  professional  object.  Such  a  purpose,  led  him 
to  volunteer  his  services  after  the  battle  of  Antietam,  and  for 
several  weeks  he  followed  the  army  in  the  field,  performing  an 
incredible  amount  of  labor.  But  he  went  beyond  the  limits 
even  of  his  iron  constitution,  and  contracted  an  intestinal  dis- 
ease, from  which  he  never  fully  recovered.  It  was  ever  his 
custom  to  perform  all  the  labor  that  was  laid  upon  him,  so  long 
as  his  strength  held  out.  Probably  few  men  have  greater 
powers  of  physical  endurance  than  he  possessed. 

Dr.  Conant  died  in  the  city  of  New  York,  on  Sunday  night, 
October  8th,  1865,  at  the  age  of  forty.  He  did  not  die  until  he 
had  made  a  record  and  a  name.  His  life  was  a  success,  yet 
we  cannot  forget  that  it  had  been  a  long  hard  struggle  against 
obstacles  of  birth,  of  defective  early  education,  of  a  trade  which 
once  learned  would  have  weighed  down  to  earth  a  common  man ; 
and  we  cannot  but  wish  that  he  might  have  lived  to  gather  the 
rich  harvest  his  hands  had  sown — to  enjoy  the  riches  of  a  good 
name  that  he  had  already  made,  and  to  rest  in  the  green  pas- 
tures and  beside  the  still  waters  which  he  was  permitted  to  see 
only  as  a  mirage  in  the  desert.  But,  better  so — infinitely  bet- 
ter than  to  have  lived  too  long ! 

Dr.  Conant  was  twice  married.  His  first  wife  was  Mary 
Sanborn1,  of  Strafford,  Vt,  who  was  married  to  him  in  1852,  and 
died  March  28,  1860,  leaving  ft  little  boy  who  still  survives.  In 
1861  he  married  Mary  Larrabee,  of  Brunswick,  Me.  The 
fruit  of  this  union  was  a  little  girl  who  is  still  living.  Mrs.  Con- 
ant had  been  for  some  time  in  feeble  health,  and  the  sudden 
death  of  her  husband  gave  her  a  nervous  shock,  from  which  she 
never  recovered.  In  four  months  after  his  death,  on  the  20th  of 
February  lastpassed,  she  too,crossed  the  "insuperable  threshold." 


13 

Of  Dr.  Conant's  last  illness  and  death,  it  seems  fitting  that 
we  should  speak.  Fortunately,  through  the  politeness  of  his 
friend,  Prof.  Feaslee,  I  am  enabled  to  give  you  a  brief  account 
of  his  disease  and  its  termination. 

Dr.  Feaslee  writes  of  him  as  follows  :  "During  the  month 
of  August  last,  he  was  almost  constantly  occupied  by  night  and 
by  day  in  his  practice,  and  was  constantly  exposed  to  septice- 
mic influences.  He  had  but  little  opportunity  to  recuperate  in 
September,  and  on  the  last  day  of  that  month  had  a  small  fur- 
uncular  inflammation  on  the  right  side  of  the  nose.  This  was 
opened  freely  to  the  bone  and  at  once  faded  away.  The  next 
day  but  one,  (Oct.  2d)  inflammation  recurred  above  the  incision 
referred  to,  and  was  in  its  turn,  apparently  subdued  by  a  sec- 
ond deep  and  free  incision.  It  returned  a  third  time  around 
and  over  the  lacturnal  sac,  extended  to  the  orbit,  producing 
exophthalmia  loss  of  sight  of  the  right  eye,  and  thence  pro- 
gressing backward  through  the  sphenoidal  fissure,  it  attacked 
the  membranes  of  the  brain,  and  proved  fatal  on  the  8th  of  Oc- 
tober. 

In  his  relations  to  his  professional  brethren,  Dr.  C.  was  cor- 
dial, frank,  genuine,  and  generous,  and  incapable  of  an  unpro- 
fessional act.  To  his  patients  he  was  kind,  faithful,  and  self- 
sacrificing  to  an  extreme  degree.  As  a  citizen  he  yielded  to 
none  in  public  spirit  and  patriotism.  But  more,  and  better 
than  all  else,  his  was  the  life  of  an  earnest  and  sincere  chris- 
tian; and  in  death  he  was  sustained  by  the  religion,  which  from 
his  youth  he  had  professed." 

Such  was  the  end  of  his  life,  and  such  the  estimate  of  his 
character  drawn  by  one  who  knew  him  well. 

I  have  thus  endeavored- to  portray  the  main  incidents  in  Dr. 
Conant's  brief  life  from  such  material  as  I  could  lay  my  hands 
on.     To  his  professional  brethren,  this  imperfect  record   of  his 


14 

well-spent  life,  is  a  sermon  that  inculcates  lessons  lor  our  en- 
couragement and  improvement.  By  condensing  the  rays  of  his 
successful  life  on  our  own  pathway,  already  somewhat  illumined 
by  our  past  experience,  we  shall  gain  new  courage  with  which 
to  take  up  the  burden  of  life  again,  and  shall  go  our  way  with 
a  renewed  and  more  exalted  purpose.  Were  I  addressing  only 
gentlemen  already  active  in  the  profession,  1  should  feel  that 
when  the  story  of  his  life  was  told,  the  most  eloquent  eulogy 
would  be  silence — the  most  instructive  lessons  would  come  of 
introspection  and  reflection. 

But  you,  gentlemen,  are  only  on  the  confines  of  that  arena 
where  he  used  his  sword  and  buckler  to  such  excellent  purpose. 
You  are  already  knocking  at  the  portals,  eager  to  enter  Ihc  lists 
and  engage  in  honorable  strife.  Meanwhile,  I  cannot  forbear 
to  call  your  attention  to  certain  salient  points  in  the  character 
of  our  deceased  friend,  which  cannot  fail  to  prove  profitable  to 
you.  and  which  remain  for  the  instruction  of  us  all. 

I  had  known  Dr.  Conant,  although  never  intimately,  for 
twenty  years.  T  shall  speak  of  him  as  I  have  judged— so  that  I 
shall  not  exaggerate  his  virtues  like  a  too  friendly  partizan,nor 
ignore  them  like  an  indifferent  stranger.  One  sometimes  judges 
more  correctly  of  the  proportions  and  symmetry  of  a  structure  at 
a  little  distance  off. 

\n  reviewing  his  life,  1  seem  to  myself  to  see  force. as  the  sal- 
ient point  of  his  character.  It  was  the  key  note  to  the  sym- 
phony of  his  life.  It  was  the  motive  power  which  carried  him 
irresistibly  from  small  beginnings,  in  the  face  of  great  obstacles, 
to  positions  of  well  earned  honor,  trust,  and  emolument.  In 
person,  he  was  a  little  above  the  medium  height,  but  somewhat 
spare  and  lithe.  His  wrists  were  very  small,  but  his  muscles 
were  like  iron.     Good  natured  and  kind  hearted  as  he  undoubt- 


15 

edly  was.  his  physical  force  was  something  to  excite  the  admi- 
ration of  a  friend,  and  the  respect  of  an  adversary.  Dunn- 
ins  boyhood  he  greatly  delighted  in  athletic  sports,     [f  there 

was  an  incredibly  tall  tree  to  be  climbed,  young  CoNANT  could 
always  achieve  the  feat,     li'  there  was  a  sedate  trout  of  years 
and  experience  in  any  neighboring  brook  who  had  come  to  re- 
gard amrlers  with   contempt,  the  same  young  gentleman  was 
sure  to   woo   him   with  such  a  coy  bait,  a::d  yet  with  such   suc- 
ul  audacity  that  the  aquatic  patriarch   was  sure  to  go  the 
wav  of  his  less  astute  descendants.       The  ''gentle  Isaak'*  never 
had  a  more  devoted  or  successful  follower.     The  sharp  crack  of 
a  rifle  waa  music  to  his  ears.      With  a  fine  muscular  develop- 
ment and  great  steadiness  of  nerve,  he  became  an  excellent  shot. 
Woe- unto  the  unfortunate  animal  that  once  came  within  range 
of  his  telescopic  sight.      This  constant  exercise  in  the  open  air, 
conjoined,  with  his  labor  at  the  bench.,  rendered  his  physique 
magnificent.     I  am  informed  that  when  an  apprentice,  if  chal- 
lenged by  any  of  the  older  workmen  to  accomplish  some  mechani- 
cal feat  in  a  brief  period  of  time,  he  invariably  accepted,  and 
accomplished  the  work  within  the  limits  set.    He  was  accustomed 
to  stand  upon  an  eight  inch  block,  and  with  comparative  case 
throw-  a  sumersault  backwards,  alighting  on  his  feet.     This  feat 
is  not  usually  attempted,  I  believe,  even   by  professed  acrobats 
without  the  aid  of  a  spring  board.     lie  thus  came  to  the  study 
of  his  profession  somewhat  rough  and  untutored  in  the  worlds 
graces  as  he  wes, — with  a  vivacity  that  wa.>  irrepressible — with 
a  physical  force  that  laughed  at  labor  and  fatigue. 

When  he  first  became  connected  with  the  New  York  Medical 
College,  the  students  were  accustomed  in  the  intervals  between 
lectures  to  spar  in  the  corridors  for  exercise,  with  boxing  gloves. 
Dr.  Conant  possessed  all  the  requisites  for  a  good  boxer,  except 
a  knowledge  of  the  '-'science"  of  self-defence.      By  close  observa- 


16 

tion  however,  he  soon  mastered  all  its  details  and  easily  van- 
quished all  competitors,  including  the  champion  of  the  class. 
This  latter  annoyed,  that  this  burly  New  Hampshire  man  should 
have  excelled  him,  induced  a  professional  pugilist  to  present 
himself,  with  the  understanding  that  he  should  punish  Dr.  Cox- 
ant  severely.  Dr.  C  very  soon  became  satisfied  that  his  antag- 
onist was  in  earnest,  and  with  a  good  naturcd  smile,  cautioned 
him  not  to  attempt  violence.  Unmindful  of  the  warning,  his  op- 
ponent struck  a  heavy  bloAV  at  him,  which  although  he  warded 
by  his  arm.  nevertheless  staggered  him.  Quicker  than  a  flash 
he  put  in  an  overwhelming  blow  that  laid  the  pugilist  at  his 
feet.  Blinded  by  rage,  lie  sprang  up  and  renewed  the  attack. 
Another  straight  hit  from  the  shoulder  again  laid  him  low,  and 
with  such  manifest  signs  of  Collapse,  that  he  never  asked  for 
more.  I  have  been  assured  by  those  who  witnessed  this  passage 
at  arms,  that  there  were  no  signs  of  excitement  or  bad  temper 
about  Dr.  C,  but  that  his  face  wore  an  unruffled  smile,  while  he 
calmly  waited  for  a  third  assault,  which  never  came. 

I  have  sometimes  thought  that,  with  similar  surroundings,  ii' 
Dr.   Coxaxt  had  been  born  in  New  York,  he  might  have  been 

notorious  as  a  gymnast  or  a  pugilist.  But  the  peaceful,  law-abid- 
ing influence  of  his  home  and  his  native  village,  insured  the  con- 
centration of  his  herculean  physical  force  on  thoroughly  master- 
ing his  profession,  and  subsequently  enabled  him  to  exercise  its 
functions  with  a  zeal  that  knew  no  abatement,  and  with  powers 
of  endurance  that  are  vouchsafed  to  but  few  men.  His  physical 
as  well  as  his  mental  organization,  was  such  that  he  could  neith- 
er waver,  nor  hesitate  in  what  he  did.  He  struck  the  nail  on  the 
head,  and  he  drove  it  home.  With  excessive  burdens  of  labor,  and 
fatigue  he  never  seemed  to  hurry;  he  never  ran;  he  was  never 
out  of  breath.  I  fancy  he  had  something  of  a  contempt  for  men 
who  did.  But  when  he  walked  it  was  with  a  stride — and  to  a 
weary  companion  at  his  side,  lie  seemed  to  possess  the  seven 


17 

leagued  boots  of  fairy  story.     However  gigantic  the  day's  labor 
Lred  al  tl  il  was  certain  to  be  accomplished  before 

ould  have  hesitated  to  dwell  upon  these  evidences  of  mere 
physical  force,  had  I  not  been  impressed  with  the  fact  that  to  it 
I>r.  Conant  v  ely  indebted  for  his  success  in  life.    With 

him  physical  force  was  synonymous  with  strength,  energy,  appli- 
cation, industry,  and  their  inevitable  concomitant — success.  We 
must  n<>t  forget  too,  that  this  immense  physical  force  that  might 
have  been  prostituted  to  very  ignoble  purposes,  was  consumed 
in  a  most  creditable  professional  development,  and  to  the  last 
traction  was  devoted  to  the  relief  of  suffering  and  disease.  It 
was  this  clement  of  physical  force  that  enabled  him  to  be  always 
punctual,  and  todo  that  which  lie  attempted.  How  many  men  with 
the  highest  mental  culture,  with  many  brilliant  elements  of  suc- 

liave  utterly  failed,  because  they  were  associated  with  a 
rably  enervated  physique.      I  confess  that  nothing  impress- 
more  magnificent,  than  the  sight  of  a  strong  man.     How 
infinitely  exalted  the  spectacle  becomes,  when  this  God  given 
is  expended  not  for  destruction,  but  production  not  for 
evil,  but  for  good.      As  I  revert  in  fancy  to  the  laborious  bo}'- 
hood  at  Lyme — to  the  struggle  for  an  imperfect  preliminary  ed- 
ucation— to  the  courage  and  industry  of  the  unaided  medical 

lit.  and  to  the  indomitable  energy,  and  labor  that  brought 
him  to  the  flood-tide  of  success  before  his  death,  I  am  impr< 
with  the  fact,  that  physical  force  cannot  be  esteemed  an  insignif- 
icant factor  in  summing  up  the  elements  that  contributed  to  make 
hi-  life  a  success.  It  is  Richard  of  the  lion  heart,  with  his  world 
renowmed  battle-axe,  working  like  a  lalx>rer,  fighting  like  a  sol- 
dier, but  winning  the  great  battle  at  last 

If  we  now  turn  to  the  consideration  of  Dr.  Conant's  cliarac- 
-  tics  as  a  teacher,  we  shall  find,  I  think,  that  force  was  the 
most  striking  element  in  his  mental  organization. 


18 

In  the  system  of  medical  education  as  pursued  at  the  present 
day,  there  are  at  best,  many  defects.  The  method  of  instruction 
by  lectures,  is  attractive  and  may  be  rendered  even  brilliant. 
The  various  topics  are  presented  in  a  manner  more  or  less  sys- 
tematic. The  points  presented  may  be  fully  apprehended,  and 
undoubtedly  make  an  impression  on  the  mind  of  the  student. 
But  such  a  plan  of  teaching,  if  alone  relied  on,  is  at  best,  only 
superficial.  There  is  no  royal  road  to  learning.  Intellectual 
wealth,  like  worldly  treasures,  can  in  the  main  only  be  attained 
by  hard  work.  To  gain  knowledge,  requires  incessant  indi- 
vidual labor,  to  retain  it  frequent  repetition.  The  knowledge 
which  we  derive  only  from  a  lecture  is  not  likely  to  make  a  last- 
ing impression  on  the  mind.  It  is  like  the  dew  that  soon  passes 
into  vapor,  'tis 

''Like  tbe  snow  falls  on  the  river. 

A  moment  white,  then  melts  forever.'' 

Undoubtedly  the  best  medical  education,  is  one  that  is  the  re- 
sult of  systematic  recitation.  No  man  can  be  said  to  know  a 
thing  until  he  has  mastered  it  so  thoroughly  that  he  can  repro- 
duce it.  If  one  has  so  mastered  a  subject  that  he  can  give  an 
intelligible,  systematic  account  of  it  to  others,  then,  and  only 
then,  can  knowledge  of  the  subject  be  considered  his  own. 
It  is  only  such  knowledge  that  a  man  can  practically  apply  to 
supply  the  wants  of  the  world.  There  are  two  sources  of  danger 
in  almost  every  system  of  education.  One  of  these  is,  that  in 
seeking  to  render  the  student  too  definite  and  exact,  we  may 
cripple  his  ability  to  generalize,  and  his  education  may  thus 
come  to  consist  of  an  infinity  of  minor  particulars.  The  other 
is  that  in  seeking  to  avoid  the  first  error,  we  may  permit  the 
student  to  study  in  such  a  desultory  indefinite  way  that  he  can 
only  attempt  to  generalize  on  very  insufficient  data — so  that  in 
the  end  he  deals  in  the  vaguest  generalities.  There  is  far 
more  danger  from  the  latter  than  the  former  cause.     In  the  sci- 


1!) 

ence  of  medicine,  nothing  was  ever  known  too  definitely.  In  the 
past  history  of  tin1  world  how  proverbial  it  bad  becomethat  med- 
icine was  the  science  of  obscurity,  and  with  the  most  exact  and 
definite  knowledge  at  his  command,  the  medical  man  even  now 
in )t  infrequently  finds  himself  groping.  There  arc  many  observ- 
ing men.  but  there  are  few  good  observers.  The  power  to 
generalize  is  vouchsafed  to  but  few  men.  There  are  multi- 
tudes in  the  world  who  may  be  exact,  definite,  and  practically 
useful  with  their  knowledge.  It  is  only  now  and  then  that  a 
genius,  whose  flight  would  be  trammeled  by  the  little  points  of 
exact  knowledge,  comes  upon  the  stage.  So  for  the  future  as  in 
the  past,  the  successful  disciple  of  iEsculapius  must  strike  his 
coin  with  a  die.  There  must  be  line  upon  line  and  precept  upon 
precept.  For  the  dignity  and  honor  of  the  noble  profession  to 
which  we  are  devoted,  let  us  hope  that  the  medical  colleges  of 
our  country  may  at  some  future  day  require  the  constant  attend- 
ance of  their  students  during  the  years  of  their  pupilage.  And 
let  us  labor  that  the  recitation  and  the  lecture,  like  the  hand- 
maids of  our  profession,  Empiricism  and  Rationalism  may  go 
hand  in  hand,  weaving  a  chaplet  for  the  brows  (.1*  successful 
scholars.  The  poorest  graduates  from  such  an  institution,  would 
I  am  sure,  be  respectable  physicians,  and  the  standard  of  the 
profession  would  gain  immeasurably. 

1  should  deem  these  few  imperfect  thoughts  irrelevant,  did  I 
not  fancy  that  Dr.  Coxaxt  entertained  similar  views,  which  in 
his  own  career  as  a  teacher,  he  most  fully  carried  out.  I  remem- 
ber that  as  a  medical  student,  he  was  remarkable  for  a  ready 
apprehension  of  every  point,  for  the  tenacity  with  which  he  re- 
tained it,  and  generally  for  the  exact  definite  character  of  what 
he  affected  to  know.  Fortunate  in  his  own  instruction,  he  so 
fully  realized  the  advantage  of  clear  didactic  knowledge,  that  he 
spared  no  pains  in  teaching  the  large  number  of  young  men  who 
resorted  to  him  for  private  instruction.    The  value  of  such  teach- 


20 

ing,  and  above  all,  of  such  a  method  is  inestimable.  For  this,  if 
for  nothing  else,  there  are  many  young  physicians,  who  to-day 
can  rise  up  and  call  him  blessed. 

Of  his  characteristics  as  a  lecturer,  many  of  you  know  far 
more  than  I  do  myself.  I  judge  however,  that  he  was  not  what 
would  be  called  a  fluent  speaker,  yet  the  subject  was  always 
treated  in  a  systematic  way.  All  points  were  clearly  and  definite- 
ly stated — important  ones  always  reiterated.  He  was  always 
dignified  and  forcible.  I  judge  that  he  labored  more  to  impress 
an  important  point  than  to  be  rhetorical,  that  he  would  never 
permit  the  gist  of  his  subject  to  be  subordinate  to  the  phra- 
seology. 

His  mental  force  is  conspicuous  throughout  his  career  as  an 
instructor.  What  he  affected  to  know,  he  knew.  What  he  said, 
he  meant.  What  he  stated,  he  could  prove.  He  never  spoke 
upon  a  subject  until  he  had  mastered  it.  You  might  have 
thought  him  brusque  at  times,  but  he  was  good  natured,  and 
ever  ready  to  answer  a  question,  however  engrossing  his  duties 
might  be.  From  the  exact,  definite  character  of  what  he  knew 
— no  less  than  the  exhaustive  way  in  which  he  investigated  a  sub- 
ject, he  was  always  an  adversary  to  be  respected. 

He  would  sometimes  rise  in  the  pathological  society,  and  make 
a  statement  so  unique,  that  it  would  immediately  give  rise  to 
discussion  and  comment.  His  face  on  such  occasions  always 
wore  a  half-smile  of  confidence  and  indifference.  Such  a  man- 
ner in  an  ignorant  man,  would  have  been  deemed  impertinent, 
but  with  him,  was  only  an  exponent  of  an  intelligent  confidence. 
This  was  all  the  more  manifest  when  he  was  required  to  defend 
the  positions  assumed.  It  was  always  found  that  the  proposi- 
tion stated  was  backed  by  such  exact  knowledge  of  the  subject, 
and  he  was  flanked  and  fortified  so  thoroughly,  that  his  position 
was  impregnable. 

The  rule  of  his  life  was  the  time  honored  aphorism  "lege  mid- 


•21 

turn  unelta"      His  esthetic  reading  was,  I  fancy,  small, 

nor  did  his  professional  Btudj  cover  a  multitude  of  books.  But 
when  he  read  a  l>ook,  lie  studied  it, — when  he  seized  upon  an 
idea,  he  mastered  it.  He  did  not  read  many  books,  but  he  read 
much.  What  he  read,  became  wholly  his  own,  and  he  could  re- 
produce ii  ;u  will. 

Like  the  man  with  one  idea,  lie  wielded  a  most  trenchant 
weapon.  Like  the  man  of  one  book,  ever  dangerous  to  meet — 
he  had  only  to  strike,  and  victory  perched  on  his  1  tanners.      In 

field  of  professional  mind,  it  was  not  in  the  delicate  fim 
of  the  skirmish  line,  nor  in  the  deceptive  strategy  of  the  out- 
post and  picket  that  he  excelled,  but  when  out-post  and  picket 
were  driven  in — when  the  skirmish  line  had  been  forced  back 
upon  the  main  body,  and  reserves  then — as  was  said  of  another: 
i;he  sounded  his  imperial  clarion,  and  swept  the  field  with  an 
overwhelming  charge.'7'  • 

Any  estimate  of  Dr.  Coxaxt's  character  that  should  fail  to 
notice  his  abilities  as  a  surgeon,  would  of  necessity  be  imperfect. 
For  surgery  he  had  a  peculiar  predilection,  and  had  at  the  out- 
set an  unusual  aptitude  for  this  department  of  his  profession. 
But  in  the  practice  oi  chirurgery.  his  characteristic  force  was 
the  main-spring  of  his  excellence. 

Two  points  are  essential  to  constitute  a  good  surgeon.  One 
is  to  know  how  to  perform  the  requisite  operation.  The  second, 
even  more  important  than  the  first,  is  to  know  when  to  use  the 
knife  "A  good  surgeon,"  says  an  old  adage,  "should  have  an 
eaglet  eye,  a  lion's  heart,  and  a  lady's  hand."  These  are  indeed, 
the  characteristics  of  an  operative  surgeon.  He  should  be 
quick  to  seeand  apprehend  the  essential  successive  steps  in  an 
operation.  He  should  be  bold,  courageous,  and  nothing  daunt- 
ed,  whatever  unexpected  complications  may  arise.  He  should 
r,ss  that  delicacy  of  touch  that  goes  before  sight,  and  guides 
the  knife  just  so  far,  and  no  farther.     Aside  from  the  knowledge 


22 

of  Anatomy  required  operative  Surgery  is  purely  a  mechanical 
pursuit.  I  have  some  times  thought  that  with  the  requisite 
knowledge,  a  good  butcher  would  make  an  excellent  operative 
Surgeon.  The  better  the  ni2chanic  the  greater  would  be  the 
skill  of  the  operator. 

But  merely  to  use  the  knife  dexterously,  to  perform  an  opera- 
tion brilliantly,  does  not  vindicate  one's  claim  to  the  title  of 
Surgeon.  Coolness  may  come  of  indifference,  or  custom.  The 
"  tactius  eruditus  "  may  come  by  experience.  The  use  of  the 
knife  is  attained  after  a  purely  mechanical  training.  But  above 
and  beyond  all  these,  points  the  question  obtrudes  itself  at  the 
outset — shall  the  knife  be  used  or  not  ?  In  many  instances  an 
affirmative  answer  may  be  given  to  the  question  without  a  se- 
cond glance  Unfortunately,  however,  innumerable  cases  are 
constantly  occurring  where  the  decision  is  of  the  utmost  moment, 
not  only  as  far  as  the  preservation  or  loss  of  a  partis  concerned, 
but  as  determining  the  question  of  life  or  death.  To  settle  all 
these  delicate  points  involves  an  amount  of  knowledge,  an  ex- 
tent of  experience  and  maturity  of  judgment  that  comes  to  but 
few  men  without  a  most  laborious  novitiate. 

The  consulting,  and  the  operative  Surgeon  are  two  distinct 
entities,  although  they  may  be,  and  frequently  are  associated  in 
the  same  person.  The  former  is  like  the  commanding  general 
of  an  army,  who  surveys  the  whole  field — weighs  and  sifts  the 
testimony  of  spies  and  scouts,  and  finally  determines  whether 
to  give  battle  or  not.  The  latter  is  like  the  executive  officer 
who  receives  his  orders,  and  obeys  them  implicitly,  though  they 
lead  to  carnage  and  death.  And  by  as  much  as  the  successful 
general  attaining  his  purpose  by  a  Fabian  policy,  without  blood- 
shed— deserves  the  plaudits  of  humanity — by  so  much  the  con- 
servative Surgeon  is  deserving  of  praise  for  the  lives  he  has 
saved  for  the  bodies  he  has  preserved  from  mutilation. 


23 

If  I  have  thus  correctly  estimated  the  characteristics  of  a 
good  Surgeon,  then  would  our  deceased  friend  have  stood  the 
test,  and  well  might  he  lay  claim  to  the  title.  His  early  train- 
ing as  a  carpenter,  had  given  him  a  facility  in  the  use  of  tools 
that  proved  invaluable  to  him  in  operative  surgery.  His  eye 
was  so  correct,  he  judged  so  well  of  distances,  his  mechanical 
skill  was  so  great  that  he  did  surgery  with  mathematical  nicety. 
He  was  a  bold,  rapid,  and  accomplished  operator.  His  knowl- 
edge of  Anatomy  was  so  definite  that  he  never  hesitated  nor  re- 
ceded. With  him  Surgery  meant  war  to  the  knife,  and  the  knife 
to  the  hilt.  As  an  operative  Surgeon  he  had  few  equals,  and 
still  fewer  superiors. 

An  instance  illustrative  of  his  coolness,  and  boldness  may  be 
briefly  adverted  to.  On  one  of  his  visits  to  his  home  he  found  his 
father  suffering  from  a  cervical  tumor.  The  disease  had  already 
developed  to  such  an  extent  as  to  threaten  suffo'cation  by  pres- 
sure on  the  trachea,  and  was  manifestly  malignant.  Satisfied 
that  the  danger  of  sudden^ death  was  imminent,  he  determined 
to  remove  as  much  of  the  mass  as  practicable  to  relieve  the 
pressure.  In  the  course  of  the  operation  he  came  upon  the  ca- 
rotid artery.  Without  any  hesitation  he  applied  a  ligature  and 
then  extirpated  all  of  the  mass  that  could  be  safely  removed. 
This  operation  gave  great  relief,  and  undoubtedly  prolonged  the 
father's  life  some  months.  It  is  not  every  Surgeon,  however, 
that  could  use  the  knife  on  his  own  parent,  for  at  best  only  a 
palliative  operation. 

But  with  him,  the  first  question  always  was  what  is  necessary  ? 
The  sublime  force  of  his  will  did  the  rest.  Once  assured  of  the 
right  path  he  pursued  it  without  a:  y  hesitation,  or  deflection. 
He  could  not  be  diverted  by  his  good  genius  nor  his  bad  genius. 
His  deliberate  conviction  was  ever  too  strong  to  be  shaken. 

Much  as  he  excelled  in  the  use  of  the  knife,  he  never  resort- 


24 

ed  to  it  ruthlessly.  He  was  intelligent  in  his  profession,  eager 
and  ambitious,  but  he  was  conscientious  and  true.  He  esteemed 
it  a  greater  honor  to  a  Surgeon  to  save  one  limb ;  than  to  ampu- 
tate jf/fy.  He  loved  to  wield  the  catlin  and  the  scalpel,  but  he 
was  prouder  to  preserve  than  to  destroy.  He  was  in  the  noblest 
sense  a  conservative  Surgeon.  Bold,  fearless,  successful,  if 
the  knife  must  come,  conservative  and  unyielding  as  adamant,  if 
the  necessity  did  not  exist.  He  was  a  man  of  decided  opinions. 
He  might  at  times  have  been  deemed  obstinate,  had  we  not 
known  that  his  conclusions  were  logically  deducted  from  cor- 
rect premises.  In  the  problems  of  his  life  addition  was  his  fa- 
vorite process.  Subtraction  was  unknown.  The  plus  sign 
was  always  used  when  it  could  be — the  minus  sign  only  when  it 
must  be.  His  life  was  positive — positive  of  good — negative 
only  of  evil. 

But  it  is  time  that  this  imperfect  tribute  to  his  character  were 
finished.  Had  I  known  him  intimately,  I  should  have  been 
tempted  to  draw  aside  the  veil  that  screened  his  private  social 
life,  and  should  have  drawn  a  picture  of  him  as  he  was  at  home. 
I  might  have  dwelt  on  his  kindliness,  his  sense  of  honor,  his 
probity,  his  temperance — his  prudence,  his  love  of  home,  of 
wife  and  child,  his  patriotism,  and  his  irreproachable  character 
as  a  christian.  But  these  attributes  of  the  departed  can  only 
be  suitably  depicted  by  one,  who  as  a  friend  has  been  admitted 
into  the  sacred  arcana  of  his  home.  With  these  holy  mysteries 
the  casual  acquaintance,  and  the  stranger  can  have  nothing  to  do. 

So  I  have  dwelt  only  on  those  salient  points  in  his  character 
that  came  out  conspicuously  in  his  public  relations.  They  were 
the  elements  of  his  professional  success.  They  remain  as 
beacon  lights  to  guide  the  tempest  tossed  to  a  successful  haven. 
Is  there  a  Student  here  to-night  burdened  with  poverty,  but  ani- 
mated by  a  noble  purpose  ?     Let  him  read  again  the  story  of 


25 

this  life,  and  take  courage.  Let  him  remember  that  with  good 
habits  a  sound. body  and  untiring  industry  lie  may  win  the 
crown. 

u  If,"  said  a  great  Artist — "  a  man  has  failed,  you  will  find 
he  has  dreamed  instead  of  working.  There  is  no  way  to  suc- 
cess iu  our  art,  but  to  take  off  your  coat,  grind  paint,  and  work 
like  a  digger  on  the  railroad,  all  day  and  every  day."  Could 
the  voice  of  him  whose  excellences  we  have  imperfectly  consi- 
dered and  break  the  stillness  of  the  tomb,  it  would  enjoin  a 
kindred  philososophy  on  all  his  professional  followers.  If  you 
would  learn  the  secret  of  his  success,  you  must  not  fail  to  note 
that  such  a  system  pervaded  his  whole  life  from  his  boyhood  to 
the  last  dread  hour,  when 

••  He  gave  his  honors  to  the  world  again, 
His  blessed  part  to  Heaven,  and  slept  in  peace." 


Extract  from  the  Introddctoby  Lecture  ofPeof.  Joseph  Perkins,  at  the  Session 

OF  Lectures,  at  the  Medical  Department  of  the  University  of  Vermont, 
1866. 

Gentlemen  : 

It  is  our  fortune  again  to  meet  in  this  College,  to  prosecute  our 
annual  course  of  studies, — to  reassure  the  remembrance  of  the  past  and  revive 
our  anticipations  of  the  future. 

Every  meeting  of  friends  once  parted,  brings  its  memories  ;  memories  of  joy 
or  grief— of  pleasures  unrevealed,  except  in  buoyant  step  and  gladsome  eye  ;  of 
sorrows,  spoken  only  by  the  saddened  countenance— joys  and  griefs,  which  no 
stranger  and  not  always  a  friend  is  made  to  share.  Memories  too,  of  common 
posession  and  interest ;  in  which  the  social  pleasure  is  enhanced,  or  the  saddened 
heart  is  healed  and  made  better  in  a  common  recollection  and  sympathy. 

To  you,  who  have  returned  to  these  seats  you  once  occupied,  to  the  Faculty 
of  this  College,  there  is,  unavoidably  present,  such  a  memory.  One  whose  elo- 
quent tones  and  lucid  teachings  have  been  twelve  years  heard  in  these  halls, — 
whose  steady  and  cunning  hand  was  ever  ready  to  relieve  the  suffering  and  im- 
part instruction  in  the  weekly  clinique  ;  the  counsellor  of  his  colleagues  and 
elder  brothers ;  the  friend  and  companion  of  the  student— Professor  Conant  ;  is 
present,  but  in  memory. 

We  look  aga;n  for  his  vigorous  form,  we  listen  for  his  footstep—  for  his  voice. 
never  here,  to  see  him— to  hear  him,  but  im  memory. 

But  the  good  and  the  noble,  the  benefactors  of  men  never  die  :  their  exit  is 
only  beyond  the  panorama  of  their  lives.  On  that  life  picture,  through  all  their 
varied  toils  and  conflicts,  we  are  allowed  to  trace  principles  to  their  results,  causes 
to  their  effects,  and  effects  to  their  consummation,  in  the  individual  life  character 
of  the  present,  and  the  sure  and  high  rewards  of  the  future. 

It  is  not  within  my  province  or  power  to  make  complele  the  eulogy  of  the 
noble  dead  :  for  his  high  aspirations  were  not  bound  in  a  limited  sphere,  they 
went  forth  to  the  centres  of  learning,  to  the  broad  arena  of  thought  and  action 
and  conflict,  to  gather  larger  breadths  of  knowledge  and  more  substantial  laurels. 

From  this  standpoint,— on  the  life  page  of  our  friend,  we  may  read,  the  self 
sustaining,  self  reliant,  the  successful  student  ;  the  model  teacher  ;  the  pioneer 
and  yet  conservative  practitioner  :  the  courteous  gentleman  ;  the  true  christian, 
culminating,  beyond  his  yeais,  in  the  benefactor  of  the  profession  and  a  good 
name,  shining  in  its  own  lustre  and  inscribed   high  on  the  roll  of  his  compeers. 


28 

The  friend  we  commemorate,  to  admire  and  to  mourn,  will  not  return  to  us. — 
In  this  temple  of  medicine,  the  place  of  his  devotions,  let  it  be  our  purpose  to 
follow  on  the  bright  pathway  in  which  he  traveled,  to  watch  for  his  footprints  in 
the  difficult  ascent  of  science.  In  this  place  and  henceforth,  let  it  be  our  pur- 
pose, to  endeavour  to  imitate  his  self-reliance— his  self-denial -his  perseverance, 
his  high  aspirations  and  attainments— his  social  and  christian  virtues.  Then  may 
his  mantle  fall  on  us,  a  heritage  richer  than  gold,  being  multiplied  in  us  and  our 
good  offices  ;  then  we  may  go  to  him-  we  may  receive  his  reward. 

RESOLUTIONS  RELATIVE  TO  THE  DEATH  OF  DR.  D.  S.  CONANT. 

NEW  YORK  ACADEMY  OF  MEDICINE. 

At  a  stated  meeting  of  the  Academy,  held  October,  18th  1865,  the  following- 
Resolutions  offered  by  Dr.  W.  M.  Chamuerlain,  were  unanimously  adopted. 

Whereas,  in  the  Divine  Providence,  Dr.  David  S.  Coxaxt,  a  fellow  of  the  Acad- 
amy,  has  been  removed  from  us  by  death, 

Resolved,  That  in  him  this  body  has  lost  an  active  and  esteemed  member, 
Resolved,  That,  though  thus  early  called  from  useful  and  successful  life,  by 
the  force  and  breadth  of  his  native  endowments,  by  a  worthy  and  elevated  ambi- 
tion, by  assiduity  in  the  study  and  practice  of  the  Profession,  by  fidelity  and 
humanity  to  the  sick,  by  honor  and  courtesy  toward  his  brethren,  he  had  attained 
a  prominence  accorded  to  but  few  of  his  years,  reflecting  dignity  upon  the  Insti- 
tutions with  which  he  was  connected  and  the  calling  which  he  had  chosen, 

Resolved,  That  this  expression  of  our  esteem  and  sympathy  be  transmitted 
to  the  bereaved  family  and  to  the  Faculties  of  the  Medical  Schools  of  Maine 
and  Vermont,  with  which  he  was  connected  as  Professor  of  Surgery." 

Respectfully  transmitted, 

.  \V.  M.  CHAMBERLAIN,  M.  D., 
New  York,  Oct.  18th  1805.  Recording  Secretary. 

Corv  of  Resolution  Passed  at  Demtlt  Dispensary,  Relative  to  the  Death'of  Dr. 

CONANT,  FOR  BUBLINGTON  MEDICAL  SCHOOL. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Physicians  and  Surgeons  of  Demilt  Dispensary,  held  Oct. 
14th,  Dr  Wm.  B.  Bebbins  presiding,  the  following  Resolutions  were  unanimously 
adopted  : 

Whereas,  in  the  providence  of  God,  our  friend  and  associate  Dr.  David  S. 
Conant  has  been  removed  from  us  by  death. 

Resolved,  That  in  this  event,  we  personally  and  this  Institution,  have  sustained 
a  serious  loss. 

Resolved,  That  while  we  cannot,  in  these  brief  terms,  fitly  express  the  esteem 
in  which  we  held  him  while  living— some  tribute  of  respect  to  his  memory,  is 
demanded  alike  by  our  own  feelings,  and  by  his  admirable  character,  therefore 

Resolved,  That  we  recognized  in  him  as  a  professional  man,  supreme  devotion 
to  his  calling  ;  excellent  powers  of  perception,  an  independent  logical  method 
of  thinking,  a  sound  judgment,  unfailing  nerve,  inventive  faculty  address  and 
dexterity — these  qualities  were  sustained  and  applied  by  a  temperament  of  un- 
common energy  and  capacity  for  labor  ;  controlled  and  directed  by  high  moral 
principle  and  a  just  sense  of  honor  ;  enriched  and  adorned  by  a  cheerful  temper 
and  a  generous  humanity. 


29 

ji  Ived,  Tliat  in  tendering  to  the  bereaved  family  of  the  I  and  to  the 

Institutions  with  which  be  was  .'connected,  our  heart-felt  sympathy— we  rejoice 

with  them  in  the  assurance  that  he  was  prepared  to  die,  as  well  as  to  live,  and 

w  entered  upon  the  fruition  of  the  faith,  and  hope,  which  he 

professed  and  honored  before  men. 

■iued,  That  the  Secretary  be  instructed  to  transmit  a  copy  of  these  K 
to  the  family  ot  the  dieceased,  to  the  Faculties  of  Burlington  and  Bowdoin 
Medi(  ■  and  to  such  Medical  and  Secular  Journals,  as  he  may  designate. 

E.  K.  PEASL3 
WM.  M.  CHAMBERLAIN, 
STEPHEN  ROGERS, 
.IAS.  L.  BROWN, 
EDWARD  BRADLEY,  Secretary. 

MEDICAL  SCHOOL  OF  MAINE 
Veal  Faculty  of  the  University  of  Verm 

\  I  LEMEN  : 

At  a  special  meeting  of  the  Faculty  of  the  Medical  School 
of  Maine,  the  following  resolutions  were  unanimously  adopted  : 

Resolved.  That  in  the  death  of  Dr.  David  S.  Conant,  late  Professor  of  Surgery 
in  this  Institution,  the  College  has  sustained  a  heavy  loss,  and  one.  which  will  be 
deeply  lamented  by  all  connected  with  it— Professors  and  Students  alike. 

Resolved,  That  we  shall  ever  cherish  an  affectionate  remembrance  of  our  late 
colleague,  as  a  man  of  strict  integrity  and  honor,  of  true  professional  enthusiasm 
and  devotion,  and  as  an  accomplished  Surgeon,  a  successful  teacher  and  a  chris- 
tian gentleman. 

J^' solved.  That  by  Dr.  Cr  nam's:  sudden  death,  the  Profession  has  lost  an  emi- 
nent member,  who  had  contributed  much  to  its  honor  and  of  whom  is  yet  ex- 
pected much  more,  while  medical  science  has  lost  one  of  its  true  and  noble 
labor. 

.  That,  while  Ave  thus  mourn  for  ourselves,  the  College  and  the  Pro- 
fession, we  would  not  forget  to  tender  to  his  family  our  warmest  sympathy  in 
their  yet  greater  affliction,  in  the  loss  of  a  most  devoted  husband  and  affectionate 
father,  and  to  commend  them  to  His  most  gracious  favor,  who  only  can  comfort 
the  hearts  of  the  widow  and  the  fatherless, 

_  Resolved,  That  the  Secretary  be  requested  to  transmit  a  copy  of  these  resolu- 
tions to  the  family  of  the  deceased,  and  to  the  various  Medical  Societies,  of 
which  he  was  a  member. 

Respectfully  transmitted, 

C.  I".  BRACKETT,  M.  D.,  Secretary. 
Brunswick.  Dec.  1st.  1 


Medical  Department,  University  of  Vermont, 
Burlington.  June  -4th,  18GG. 


At  a  meeting  of  the  Medical  Faculty  held  this  day,  the  following  Resolutions 
relating  to  the  death  of  the  late  Professor  Conant,  were  unanimously  adopted  : 

Whereas.  It  has  pleased  the  All-wise  Creator  to  remove  from  our  midst  our 
late  colleague  Dr.  David  S.  Conant,  Professor  of  Surgery,  therefore 

Resolved,  That  in  his  death  we  deplore  the  less  of  one  "whose  great  professional 
ability  and  high  moral  character,  had  already  secured  him  a  place  in  the  first 
rank  of  American  Surgeons.  Possessing  as  a  teacher  the  rare  faculty  of  infusing 
his   own  enthusiasm  into  his  pupils,  he  was  thus  enabled  to  impart  instruction 


30 

with  a  wonderful  facility,  while  the  force  and  precision  of  statement  with  which 
he  unfolded  a  subject  dissipated  all  cloudiness  from  the  minds  of  his  hearers  and 
left  it  indelibly  impressed  upon  them. 

As  a  practitioner  in  medicine  he  rose  to  eminence  solely  by  the  exercise  of 
that  indefatigable  energy  which  never  tired  of  study  or  research,  but  tracking 
knowledge  to  her  secret  lodes  spared  no  efforts  to  unravel  every  thread  of  her 
mysterious  web.  He  knew  and  felt  the  great  truth  ol  man's  innate  powers,  and 
cultivating  under  insuperable  obstacles  the  measure  of  talents  bestowed  upon 
him,  rose  steadily  to  a  high  place  and  well- deserved  fame  by  bis  own  self  reliance 
and  indomitable  will. 

As  a  colleague  long  associated  with  us  in  the  field  of  instruction  his  most  en- 
during monument  rests  in  the  hearts  and  memories  of  his  pupils,  while  the  story 
of  his  own  eventful  life  furnishes  a  better  incentive  to  stimulate  youth  to  zealous 
efforts,  than  any  text  from  which  they  could  be  addressed.  Pure  in  mind— noble 
in  nature  and  tender  in  all  the  relations  which  gild  and  hallow  our  social  com- 
munings, we  feel  how  small  a  part  of  all  that  is  his  due  can  be  spoken  by  us, 
even  with  the  glowing  stimulus  of  friendship  to  prompt  our  utterance,  or  to 
lend  a  precious  seeing  to  the  eye. 

Resolved,  That  we  hereby  tender  our  deepest  condolence  and  sympathy  to  his 
bereaved  family,  and  that  these  imperfect  expressions  of  our  sorrow  and  sense 
of  affliction  be  transmitted  to  them. 

SAMUEL  W.  THAYER.  Dean. 


